Connections
by cmar
Summary: PRTF: Eric takes a trip into his mother's past and into his own heart, in search of his biological father. Part 7 'Time' Series. Complete.
1. Prologue

Eric belongs to Disney/Saban. I am using him without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Gaby and all other characters that appear in the story are mine. 

Rated PG-13 : Harsh language; strong sexual content; mature concepts. 

Reviews are appreciated, please take a moment to leave one. 

**A/N:** This story and 'Unreal Life' take place at the same time, and I am posting them at the same time. They are separate but related stories, and can be read together or separately. 

This takes place after the events of 'Sins of the Fathers'. You don't have to have read that story, but it might help. 

My thanks to Rach, for spotting a potential problem with the first name I used for Eric's fictitious home town, and helpful suggestions for a solution. 

Connections

* * *

* * *

Prologue

* * *

He had been here before. But somehow it didn't feel the same this time. As he waited, he glanced around the dismal room; tiled floor, white plaster walls, a table, four uncomfortable chairs, a barred window. And nothing more. Visitors usually saw prisoners in the main visiting room, through a sheet of hardened plastic, speaking on phones, but he had called in a few favors and taken advantage of his somewhat privileged position to use this room instead. 

Again he wondered exactly what he was doing here, why he had chosen to come now, why he wanted to do this at all. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough problems already, especially now. But even if it was asking for more complications in an already complicated life, this was something he knew he had to do. 

The door opened. A guard motioned a man in. He was middle-aged with a tired face, a man who looked as if life had worn him out, the prison uniform hanging limply on him. After a few steps into the room, he stopped and they stared at each other as the guard closed the door on them. 

"Hi, Dad." 

"Eric. I was surprised when they said you wanted to see me." 

"Yeah, I guess so." He moved back a step. "Sit down." They both sat and regarded each other uneasily across the table. "So -- how have you been?" 

Myers shrugged. "Okay. Jail is jail, no matter where. I've done time before, I know the ropes." 

"They treating you okay?" 

"Yeah." He smiled. "Better than usual... Maybe because they know my son is commander of the Silver Guardians..." Eric's thoughts must have shown on his face, because Myers went on, "I know, I shouldn't say that. I'm not really your father." 

"Yeah." Eric stared at the wall. 

"So -- why are you here?" His voice took on a hint of sarcasm. "I assume you didn't come just to say hello." 

"No." Eric stood up, feeling the need to express his tension with movement. He went to the window and looked out. "Look, I saved your life, despite the fact that you treated me and Mom like shit all those years. I even did what I could to get you a light sentence. I figure you owe me something." 

"What do you want?" 

"Ever since you and Mom showed up, I've been thinking." He took a few steps back to his chair and sat, leaning forward on the table. "For years, I tried to forget my past. Didn't want anything to do with it, didn't want to find any of my other relatives. But now, I'm starting to feel different. I didn't really know Mom at all... and now it's too late." He watched his own fingers curling nervously. "I want to know more about my family. Mom's gone, so you're the only one I can ask." 

"Want to find your roots, huh?" 

"Maybe it sounds stupid to you..." 

"No, I didn't say that." 

"And don't think I'm going to get your time reduced, or get you special favors..." 

"Did I ask for anything?" Myers' face lit with a spark of anger. 

Eric stared at him for a moment, again with the painful suspicion that he was more like this man than he ever wanted to be, despite their lack of blood relationship. "Will you do it?" he asked bluntly. "Just answer some questions?" 

Instead of the calculating look he had expected, he saw a smile on Myers' face. "I guess you're right. I owe you something. What do you want to know?" 

"Okay..." Eric sat back, trying to relax and collect his thoughts. He had come with a list -- should have written it down, he realized. "Okay. Grandma -- Mom's mother -- died years ago. What about my grandfather? Mom's father?" 

"He was a bum. Like me." Myers smiled again, ruefully. "There were rumors he beat up on Pammy -- your mother -- when she was a kid. When Pammy got pregnant he took off and disappeared." 

"Sounds a _lot_ like you." Eric couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. 

"I heard he died in jail, soon after your grandmother died." 

Eric tried and failed to feel anything. "What about your parents?" 

"_My_ parents? They're alive. Of course, they're not your blood relations." 

"I don't remember ever meeting them." 

"No. As soon as you were born, everyone could see you weren't mine. They didn't want anything to do with you. Thought I was a fool to stay with Pammy." 

"Nice people." Eric scowled. "Neither of you had any brothers or sisters?" 

"Nope." 

"Do I have any cousins? Anything?" 

"I don't know your mother's family very well. I don't think they were very close, anyway." Myers had a small and quiet smile on his face. Undoubtedly waiting for the inevitable, obvious question, the one Eric had really come to ask. 

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Do you know who my real father was? My biological father?" 

The smile deepened. "Sorry. No idea, except he must have been a... Chinese." 

"Shit." Eric was on his feet again. "You don't even know _that_, do you? I could be half Japanese, or Korean, or a few other things... Can't tell for sure by looking at me." 

Myers shrugged, his face becoming more serious. "Your mother wasn't exactly... picky. Could have been a lot of guys." 

"But there weren't that many Asian men in Canela Beach. Not then. You must have thought about it. Must have suspected someone." 

"Okay." Myers sighed. "There was Walter Lee. He was a math teacher at the high school." 

"A high school teacher?" 

"Your mother was only seventeen when she got pregnant, a junior in high school. Mr. Lee seemed to take an interest in her. Tried to get her to study harder, thought she should go to college." 

"And because of that you think..." 

"Get real, Eric. Men aren't interested in pretty young girls for their minds." 

"Maybe _you_ aren't." 

"Fine. But he was Chinese, and he knew your mother. His son used to hang out with her, too, but he was just a kid. She liked them older." He paused. "There was also a guy who owned the local Chinese restaurant. Don't remember his name. And there was a guy who worked in the library. I think he was Japanese. Saw him talking to your mother a few times." 

"I suppose you don't remember his name, either." 

"Nope." 

"You never checked it out? Never asked around?" 

"Why should I? What difference did it make who it was?" 

Eric moved back to stand over him. "Didn't you ever ask my mother?" 

"I -- Like I said, what difference did it make?" 

"You did ask her, didn't you? What did she say?" 

"She wouldn't tell me." Myers didn't look up at him, shifting slightly in his chair. 

"You're lying." 

"Look, Eric, maybe this is a bad idea. It doesn't matter who it was." 

Eric leaned over him and waited for him to look up. "Tell me what she said." 

"She didn't remember. Said she was drunk, she didn't remember where she was or who she was with." 

"Was that all?" 

"It's enough, isn't it?" He hesitated. "She said there were a lot of guys. Some of them were from out of town. She didn't even remember what half of them looked like..." 

"Do you think she was telling the truth?" 

"Look, I don't know. Maybe she knew and didn't want to tell me, didn't want to get the guy in trouble. She could be loyal like that. Maybe she really didn't remember. I didn't want to have to tell you your mother might not even know who it was. But she was a -- she was like that, especially when she was a kid." 

"Did you think it was a surprise?" Eric paused. "Why _did_ you marry her? And stay as long as you did?" 

"I..." Myers squirmed again and mumbled his answer with head turned down. "I loved her. Believe it or not. She was so beautiful... and so much fun. Even after I found out you weren't mine... I guess I thought I could change her. But nothing could. And... well, you know how things ended up." 

Eric straightened and turned away, waiting a few moments before speaking again. "Well, thanks," he said. "I guess." 

"Sorry I couldn't help." 

"I'll find out... someday." Eric sighed before turning around again. "I guess I should go. Got work to do." 

"What are you going to do if you find him?" 

Eric shrugged. "Don't know." 

"Say hello? Ask for child support? Punch him in the nose?" 

"I just want to look him in the face." Eric felt his jaw clench. "Want to see what kind of man he is. Know where I came from." 

"Well -- I don't get it. But good luck." 

"Thanks." Eric walked to the door and knocked sharply. A moment later it opened, and the same guard stood aside, waiting for Myers to come out. 

They faced each other in the doorway, exchanging a long and uneasy look. Eric tried to understand what he was feeling, confused by the mixture of anger, hostility, nostalgia, and an undefined ache, at the moment just wanting it to be over. Myers smiled tentatively and held out his hand. Eric hesitated, then finally put his own hand out. 

"I wish things had been different between us," Myers said softly. "Wish I'd done a lot of things differently." He met Eric's eyes. "Wish you really were my son. Then I could say I'm proud of you, and you wouldn't get mad." 

"There was a time I would have given anything to hear you say something like that," Eric said, surprising himself. He stepped back. "But it's too late now. Nine years of you calling me names and slapping me around. We both have to live with what you did." 

With another glance, Myers walked out. Eric stood still. In a few minutes, another guard would come to escort him out. Then he would go back to work, back to the real world, back to the life he had built for himself. Friends, a good job, a girlfriend, a home. But no family. What did he want? What would he gain by finding his father? He had to admit he wasn't entirely sure. Would it even be possible to track him down, after thirty years? Maybe not. But he knew he was going to give it a damn good try. 

* * *

TBC... 


	2. Cinnamon

Eric belongs to Disney/Saban. I am using him without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Gaby and all other characters that appear in the story are mine. 

Rated PG-13 : Harsh language; strong sexual content; mature concepts. 

Reviews are appreciated, please take a moment to leave one. 

**A/N:** This story and 'Unreal Life' take place at the same time, and I am posting them at the same time. They are separate but related stories, and can be read together or separately. 

You should read chapter two of 'Unreal Life' before reading this. 

Connections

* * *

* * *

Cinnamon

* * *

Canela Beachside Motel. The sign flashed neon, visible through their window, not the most tasteful thing he had ever seen, but there wasn't a whole lot of choice in such a small town. The room itself was -- was a motel room, as bland and sterile as most of them were. At least it was clean and comfortable, and it was on the beach. He swung his suitcase onto the bed and opened it, glancing up at the woman standing at the window. 

"Aren't you going to unpack?" he asked. 

"Yeah, I guess." She still seemed dispirited, but she carried her bags to the dresser and busied herself. 

They were quiet for a few more minutes, until everything that could be put away had been taken care of. Eric tried to think of something cheerful to say, not his specialty, he knew. Gaby flopped on the bed and picked up the remote control, turning the TV on and shuffling quickly through the channels. 

"TV's always so lousy in these places," she said. "At least they have HBO." 

"Don't forget the pay-per-view porno movies." 

"Hmmm." She frowned at him, then suddenly smiled. "I've never made it in a hotel room before." 

"Never?" 

"Nope." The smile grew into a grin. 

He smiled back and sat on the edge of the bed. "With all the hundreds of guys you've been with?" 

"Right, hundreds. I guess _you've_ done it in hotels, motels, in rooms with vibrating beds and mirrors on the ceiling…" 

"Oh, sure." 

"In gas stations, on rooftops, in threesomes and foursomes…" 

Suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. He sat up straighter. "No. Never been into that kind of thing." 

"I know." Her face was sympathetic now. She glanced at the window again, a stray beam of afternoon sun slipping past the curtains and lighting a whirl of dust motes in the air. "I guess you want to get going. Go see that high school teacher, before it gets too late." She started to get up. 

"Hey, wait." He wrapped an arm around her waist, stretching out on the bed and pulling her down with him. "No hurry. You said you wanted to do it in a hotel…" 

A playful smile pulled at her lips as she rolled onto him, propping herself on his chest. "I said I've _never_ done it… not that I _want_ to…" 

He pulled her head down for a kiss, feeling the strands of her hair curl around his fingers as her mouth opened to allow his tongue to explore, reaching out to touch, circling, then withdrawing and inviting hers to pursue. She slid her arms around him, pressing against him, sighing slightly as his hands slipped under her sweater, stroking bare skin. 

He rolled them over, pressing her down with the weight of his body, a hand flat on her stomach now, then moving up under her clothing. As his lips moved across her chin and down to her throat, she arched her neck and began to move her body against his in all the right places… 

Eric raised his head and grinned down at her. "Of course, if you still think I should leave now…" 

"Very funny." She pulled him back down. 

* * *

An hour later, he paused at the door to look back. Gaby was in a t-shirt and panties, lounging on the bed, already flipping through TV channels again. "I don't like leaving you here alone," he said. 

She looked up at him. "You said yourself these people are more likely to talk if I'm not there. And we picked this motel at random. Registered under a fake name. Haven't told anyone where we are. There's no way Norman could find us." 

He frowned at the name. Norman Ryder. The latest in a line of bizarre enemies he, Wes, and Jen had faced, and defeated. But Norman was special. He had already kidnapped Gaby once, claiming to be in love with her. Then he had tried again, attacking them in Eric's home, setting it on fire and almost killing both of them. Eric was determined he wouldn't get another chance. That was one of the reasons they were there, he was keeping Gaby safe while Wes and Jen took over the fight back in Silver Hills. 

"Don't go outside," he said. 

"I won't." 

"Keep the windows covered." 

"I will." 

"If you see or hear anything suspicious…" 

"I _know_." Impatience edged her voice. "I have the pager and my cell phone with your number on speed dial. They're both right here, I can grab them in a second. I'll page you if anything happens." 

"Won't do me much good to find my real father if…" 

She smiled, slid off the bed, and came to him, giving him a quick hug. "You're being way overprotective. But it's kind of sweet." 

He grinned. "Protecting my property." 

"Pig. Go on, get out of here. And good luck." 

"Thanks." 

He stepped outside and waited to hear the door lock click before he headed for his car. 

* * *

Walter Lee was listed in the phone book, and he had been quite willing to meet Eric, although obviously surprised at the request. His house was small, set back behind a scattering of trees, attractive and well maintained. Rather like the person himself, when he answered the door. Eric saw a short, slender, elderly Chinese man, silver diluting the black of his hair, a gentle, round face that seemed remarkably youthful for his age. 

"You must be Eric Myers," he said, his voice slightly accented, as Eric hesitated, at a loss for what to say. 

"Yes." He collected himself. "Are you Walter Lee?" 

"That's right. Come in." He stood aside, then closed the door and led Eric through a comfortably sloppy living room and into a bright, roomy kitchen. A woman stood at the stove, also Chinese, her face lively and curious as she looked him up and down. 

"This is my wife, Anna," Lee said. "Sit down. Would you like anything? Tea? Coffee?" 

"Anything you have handy. Don't go to any trouble." 

"I was making tea anyway," Anna murmured. She had a slightly stronger accent. They spent the next minute or so getting settled at the kitchen table and making a few comments about the weather and his trip into town. 

"So. What's this all about?" Lee finally asked. "You said you're Pamela Ashford's son." 

"Yeah. Pamela Myers, after she got married." 

"Right. I remember your mother. Your father too. And I remember when you were born. Lost touch after that, although I heard things." 

"I'll bet." Eric paused uncomfortably. "Look, maybe we should discuss this in private. If you don't mind." 

"My wife?" Lee and Anna exchanged a glance. "I have an idea of what you're going to ask, and I have nothing to hide from Anna." 

"Unless you'd feel more comfortable if I leave…" she asked. 

"No." Eric sighed. "All right. I'm looking for my biological father. Are you him?" His eyes locked with Lee's. 

To his surprise, the other man smiled, showing no sign of embarrassment or indignation. Anna, on the other hand, pursed her lips in disapproval. "What a thing to ask," she said. "As if my Walter would do something like that with a seventeen-year-old girl, one of his students…" 

"Anna, please… I'm sorry, Mr. Myers, but I'm not your father. I never had -- that kind of relationship with your mother. You can see we don't look much alike, if you don't believe me." 

"Yeah, I guess." He stared at his teacup, uncertain, stalling by taking a sip. "You knew her back then. Would you mind telling me about her?" 

"I heard she disappeared when you were still a child." Lee's face held only pity now, bringing the usual stab of annoyance and resentment to Eric. "I remember her very well. A beautiful girl. And smart. Could have done anything she wanted. But she -- had problems. I tried to help her, but it was almost like she was punishing herself, running around like that, not studying or trying to make herself better, marrying that Dennis Myers… Sorry." 

"Believe me, I know exactly what my dad was. Is." 

"Maybe that's why you want to find your real father." He hesitated. "I'm not sure if I can help you. This is a small town, there weren't a lot of Asian men around here at that time." 

"My dad -- Dennis Myers -- said there was a guy who had a Chinese restaurant. And a Japanese guy in the library." 

"True." He hesitated again. "Sammy Chong owned an Asian restaurant. He's about sixty now; sold his business and retired a year or two ago. The man who worked in the library -- his name was Yamoto, I think. Might be in his fifties. Don't know if he's still around." 

Eric shot a glance at him as he said, "I heard your son was friendly with her, too." 

Another pause, while Lee's eyes evaluated him again. "My son, Russell. But he was only sixteen at the time." 

"Old enough." 

"I'm sure he had nothing to do with it." He hesitated. "Russell and your mother were friends. But they didn't have a romantic relationship." 

"I don't think my mother cared much about romance." 

"He was a good boy. If he had done it, he would have said so, would have taken responsibility. He was very fond of your mother. Was always trying to help her, to take care of her, in spite of the things she did." With a sigh and another glance at Eric, he went on. "There was one time in particular. He said something once that made me think that might have been when she got pregnant. He was very upset about it. They went out that night, she met a group of men from out of town. He said he tried to keep her out of trouble. They had a big fight. He didn't talk to her again for a couple of months. Not until after she found out she was expecting." 

Eric leaned forward. "Exactly what happened that night?" 

"He never told me the details. All I know for sure is what I saw for myself..." 

_He opened the door. Pam was standing there, smiling, her pretty face bright. "Hi, Mr. Lee," she said. "Is Russell home?" _

"Yes, he's..." 

"I'm right here, Dad." Russell bounced down the stairs and grinned at Pam. "What's up, Pammy?" 

"Wanna go to Sammy's tonight? Eddie and Cath have his mom's car." She gestured toward a car parked in front of their house. A shadowy figure in the driver's seat waved. 

"I... Is it okay, Dad?" 

"Russell, it's a school night." 

"Oh, come on, Mr. Lee," Pam said. "Can't Russell come out and play?" 

"Would you excuse us, Pam?" 

He waited while she retreated to the sidewalk before facing his son. "Russell, I don't like you being around Pam. I've heard she drinks." 

Russell glanced at her longingly. "I wouldn't drink, even if she does. And you know Eddie. He's okay." 

"Well..." 

"Please, Dad? I won't do anything you wouldn't like and I promise I'll be back by ten." 

"All right. But behave yourself." 

"Thanks!" 

He watched as Russell grinned, ran down the walk and joined Pam. She took his arm as they hurried to the car... 

"A couple of hours later Russell called me and asked me to pick him up. All he would tell me was that Pam 'got weird', he tried to stop her, and they had a fight. I trusted my son then, and I still do. I'm sure he didn't do anything wrong." 

"A lot of parents think they know their kids a lot better than they really do." 

Lee hesitated again and sighed. "Talk to him. Let him tell you. Just... take it easy on him." 

"I'm not looking to make trouble for anyone. Just want to know the truth." Eric stood up. "I'd better get going. Don't want to bother you any longer." 

"It's no bother." Lee waited as he said goodbye to Anna and shook her hand. Then he walked with Eric to the front door. 

"Thanks for talking to me," Eric said as he stepped through the doorway. 

"No trouble at all. Just sorry I couldn't be more help." As Eric turned, Lee reached out to lay a hand on his arm. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. 

"Sure I'm sure." 

"Your mother was… you may not ever find out who it was. And you may not like what you do find out." 

Eric smiled bitterly. "After the things I saw when I was a kid, I'm not going to be shocked." 

Lee stepped outside with him. "Where is your mother now?" 

Eric shrugged, with a nonchalance he didn't really feel. "Dead. Died a few months ago." 

"I'm sorry to hear it." He sighed, looking across his yard. "I remember hearing things about your parents, both of them, about the way they acted. Then he left… and she abandoned you. There was a lot of talk about it. Terrible thing. I always wondered what happened to you." 

"Well, now you know." 

"But I don't really know, do I?" He looked into Eric's face with disturbing directness. "I can't imagine how you felt, or what your life was like, both with such parents, or after they were gone. It's good to know you survived, and turned out well. But -- I'm surprised you would want to dig up your past again." 

"All I want is the truth." 

"I understand. But sometimes the truth can be hard to bear. I hope whatever you find won't bring you more pain." 

* * *

"Canela Beach. Strange name for a town." Gaby's voice was soft as she gazed out over the ocean, letting the sea breeze riffle through her hair, the rosy light of sunset shading her face. 

"Story is that the first settlers here thought the sand looks like cinnamon in the sunset. That's what canela means, cinnamon." 

"It's beautiful." 

"Yeah." It _was_ beautiful. 

Despite his fears, Gaby had been waiting for him in the motel room, impatient and anxious to get outside. They had gone out to find a place to eat, and spent an hour driving through town first, Eric surprised at the nostalgia he felt whenever he saw something familiar. 

Now he watched the sunset as they walked slowly along the beach, magnificent in shades of red, rust, and pink, painting the dark shapes of the clouds over mysterious, murky waters and red-brown sand. The air was cool and fresh, the time that magical zone between evening and night, when all the realities of day are blurred and softened but the cold darkness of night has not yet come. 

"I appreciate this," Gaby said, her voice low. 

"Huh?" 

She smiled. "I know it hasn't been easy for you, spending so much time with me." 

"It's not so bad." 

"Especially with that creep Norman stalking me." 

"That's not your fault." 

"But you didn't have to do all the things you've done. Staying with me all the time. Bringing me out of town like this." 

"Yes, I did. Not going to let that jerk get his hands on you. Besides, we're here because of something _I_ want to do. For myself." 

"But it probably would be easier for you without me along." 

He tightened his grip on her hand. "Oh, stop it. We're here, I'm going to do what I came to do, and maybe we'll have a good time, too." 

"I don't know." She lowered her eyes to the sand. "Are you sure you should do this?" 

"Find my real father? Yeah, I think so." 

"Look… What if he's -- a disappointment? What if he doesn't want to meet you, what if…" She trailed off. 

"What?" 

"What if he's worse than Dennis Myers? Or what if you _never_ find out who he is? Are you prepared to deal with that?" 

He was silent as they moved on a few more steps. _Was_ he prepared for all the possibilities? Or was he assuming he'd find some nice, successful, terrific guy who'd welcome him with open arms? 

"I don't know," he said, finally. "Don't know how I'll react until it happens." 

"Some things are better left alone." 

"I have to try to find out. Don't you understand?" 

"I guess so." She turned to look into his face as they drifted to a stop. "I just… would hate to see you get hurt again." 

He looked away quickly, afraid of the way her compassion affected him. "Getting hurt's a part of life. I can handle it." 

"I hope so." They walked on, silently, until Gaby's voice came again. "It's just that it drags up all that stuff with your mother again…" 

"I said I can handle it!" Eric stopped himself, regretting the sharpness of his voice. After a couple of steps he went on, more softly, "I don't know who I am, or even _what_ I am." 

"_I_ know who you are. You're Eric Myers." 

"That's not what I mean. I don't know anything about half of myself, not even what race I am." 

"Does it make a difference?" 

"It does to me. I have to do this. If I don't, I'll wonder for the rest of my life." 

"Yeah." She moved closer, slipping her hand out of his and reaching an arm around his body. He wrapped his arm across her shoulders. "I guess I'd probably do the same thing. But you don't blame me for worrying, do you?" 

"Course not." He stopped, turned, and pulled her closer, seeing her face smile in the soft light, until he kissed her slowly and thoroughly, his breath coming faster as she pressed against him, hands trailing over his back and down to pull them together. He nipped her earlobe between his lips, kissed the skin just underneath, and whispered, "Ever make it on a beach?" 

"Not a good idea. Damn sand gets in _everything_." 

* * *

TBC... 


	3. Questions

Eric belongs to Disney/Saban. I am using him without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Gaby and all other characters that appear in the story are mine. 

Rated PG-13 : Harsh language; strong sexual content; mature concepts. 

Reviews are appreciated, please take a moment to leave one. 

**A/N:** This story and 'Unreal Life' take place at the same time, and I am posting them at the same time. They are separate but related stories, and can be read together or separately. 

Connections

* * *

* * *

Questions

* * *

Morning. Eric blinked against the summer sun. He hadn't gotten as much sleep as he should, between the unfamiliar room and his own thoughts. Lying awake for what had felt like hours, he had wondered if he was doing the right thing, wondered how he'd react to the truth, if it turned out to be a truth he didn't like. Or if he never found out... Gaby slept beside him, seeming as peaceful as he was not, despite her own problems. Finally he had drifted off, watching the steady rise and fall of her breathing. In the morning, he had awakened early and felt a moment of panic on finding himself alone in the bed, but she had been in a chair at the window, looking out through the narrow space between the curtains, her face, in that moment before she realized he was awake, showing the worry she had been hiding from him. 

He closed the car door and looked across the street for another moment. He hadn't liked leaving Gaby at the local mall, but she had been right. She had said she'd be bored staying in the room. Even if Norman tracked them down, he'd have almost no chance of finding her in a crowded shopping mall. And she had the pager and the phone. He sighed and firmly put it out of his mind. 

A few calls and a phone book had located the three men he wanted to question. The first one lived in the house he was looking at now, a small, run-down looking building, the home of Phillip Yamoto. The man who had worked in the Canela Beach public library thirty years ago, and had been friendly with his mother. Well, better get going. Squaring his shoulders, Eric started across the pavement. 

A few minutes later, a short, stooped man with glasses and a sharp face had answered the bell. Eric stared at him for a moment, suddenly wondering whether to bother with his questions. There was absolutely no resemblance. But... how could he be sure? And this man might know something. 

"Yes?" Yamoto asked. 

"Sir, sorry to bother you," Eric said automatically. "I'm Eric Myers. Are you Phillip Yamoto?" 

"Yes." The answer was reluctant and suspicious. 

"Could I ask you some questions?" 

"What's this about?" 

"Well -- do you remember a woman named Pamela Ashford? She was in high school here thirty years ago. Used to come to the library where you worked." 

Only a blink showed his reaction. "Pamela. Yes, I remember her. What about her?" 

Eric took a breath. "I'm her son." 

Sharp eyes regarded him, looking him up and down, taking his measure, perhaps judging his honesty. "Her son," Yamoto finally said. "That's right, she married some guy, still in high school. Had a baby." 

"That's me." 

Another shrewd scrutiny, then, "Come on in." 

Another living room, nicer than he would have thought from the outside of the house. Another hallway, and a kitchen. They sat after Eric had refused the offer of a drink. 

"All right, what do you want to ask?" 

Eric recited his story, keeping his face blank. "My mother was white, and so was her husband. Obviously he's not my real father." 

"And now you're trying to find him?" 

"Right." 

Yamoto smiled. "It's not me. You can see there's no resemblance." 

"That's not proof." 

"Do you want a DNA sample? Besides, there's another reason. I'm gay." He said it with a touch of defiance. 

Eric blinked. "You still might have..." 

"No. I was friendly with Pammy. Your mother. But only because I thought she had brains. Thought she could make something of herself. I was disappointed when she got pregnant and dropped out. And then when she disappeared." He paused. "How is she doing now?" 

"Dead." 

"Oh. Sorry to hear it. But can't say I'm surprised." 

"If you're not my father, do you know who is?" 

A smile, and a shake of the head. "Pammy didn't tell me those kinds of things. Believe it or not, we talked about literature." His face became wistful, his eyes drifting away from Eric and gazing into some forgotten past. "She liked Shakespeare in particular. So much fancy language, she used to say, and all they're talking about is love, sex and murder. Just like TV." His eyes focused again. "She was really very intelligent. A pleasure to talk to. I wish I could have helped her in some way." 

"Maybe no one could have." 

"Probably not. She was -- almost self-destructive, from what I heard. But not with me. When she came to the library, she was just a nice, smart girl who wanted to have an intelligent conversation with a guy she knew wasn't out to nail her." 

Eric was silent for a few moments. "I never saw that side of her," he finally said. 

"You were a child. And -- not born under the best circumstances. Is it true she abandoned you?" 

"Yes, it's true." 

Yamoto sighed. "It hardly seems possible. She always seemed so sweet... but life can do strange things to a person." 

Eric was suddenly uncomfortable, the image of his mother as a sweet, vulnerable young girl, the thoughts of what his life might have been like if she really had been the way this man saw her... 

"Are you sure you don't have any idea?" he asked. 

Yamoto gave him another of those piercing looks. "I can tell you about the last time I saw her. It was about the right amount of time before you were born. Might have something to do with it." 

"Go on." 

"I was having dinner, alone, at Sammy Chong's place. Just finishing up when Pammy came in with some of her friends..." 

_He watched as they walked in and took a table. Laughing too loud, eyes too bright. She was drunk, or high. He frowned. There were rumors about Pammy, he'd seen the high school boys whispering and grinning when they saw her in the library. Gotten angry at the remarks from the kids who saw him talking to her. He didn't like seeing the evidence that it was true. _

They sat, laughing, talking too loud. Pammy was with that Lee kid who always followed her around like a puppy dog. The other two were another boy and girl from the school, a couple, at least for the night, judging from how they were groping all over each other. 

He watched them for another few minutes, Pammy trying to flirt with a group of Japanese men at a table in the corner, then calling Sammy Chong over and saying something that sent him away with a look of disgust on his face..." 

"Then what happened?" 

"Then I paid the check and left." 

"That's all? Are you sure you didn't see anything more?" 

"Yes, I'm sure. Sorry." 

They paused at the door to shake hands. Yamoto smiled up at him. "I imagine your memories of your mother are very different from mine. I knew one side of her. You knew another. Maybe both of them were really her, or maybe neither. Perhaps she never showed her true self to anyone." 

"Not to me, anyway. Thanks." Eric smiled stiffly and left, walking back to his car as quickly as possible. He got in, hands clenching on the wheel. Another blind alley, and some of the answers he was getting were harder to take than he had thought. But he wasn't about to quit. 

* * *

An apartment building this time, not big by the standards of Silver Hills, just three floors, doors opening on outside walkways. Several buildings, separated by lawn and small gardens. Quite nice. Eric let himself appreciate it as he looked around for the address he wanted, partially to take his mind off his task. 

This time the door was opened by a pretty Asian woman, perhaps a few years older than he was. She smiled and asked, "Can I help you?" 

"Yes. Does Sam Chong live here?" 

"That's my father." She turned away from him and yelled, "Dad! Someone to see you!" 

A man walked out, replaced his daughter at the door, and looked Eric up and down, his mouth tightening. "Yes?" he asked, frowning. 

Eric returned the inspection, he hoped a little more subtly. Sammy Chong was heavyset, but mostly muscle, a couple of inches shorter than Eric, with a hard face and a harsh expression that deepened as Eric looked him over. 

"Sir, I'd like to talk to you," Eric said. "In private, if possible." 

"Who are you? What's this about?" 

Another deep breath to steady himself. "My name is Eric Myers. My mother was Pamela Ashford. She was in high school here thirty years ago, and she used to go to your restaurant." He waited a second or two while Chong continued to stare at him. "Do you remember her?" he asked. 

Chong straightened. "Yes, I know who your mother was. Be right with you." He turned inside long enough to tell his daughter he would be back soon. In another minute he and Eric were on a walkway between the buildings. They stopped in a small park-like square lined with benches and sat down. 

For a moment both of them watched the breeze rippling the grass and stirring the branches of the trees surrounding them. A moment of peace, Eric thought, before the hard part begins. He had seen a reaction in Chong's eyes, when he announced who he was. Guilt? Or only memory? Or had he imagined it? Had he seen something familiar in Chong's face, something he saw in the mirror every day? Or was he simply looking too hard? Up to him to find out. 

"What do you want to know?" The question was abrupt, as if it had been forced out. 

"You remember my mother. Do you remember me?" 

"Yes. It was quite a scandal when you were born. I heard all about it." 

"Then you must know Dennis Myers isn't my real father." 

"Obviously." 

"I want to know who my real father is." 

"Your biological father. Not your _real_ father." 

Eric shot him a sharp look. "Whatever. Do you know anything that could help me?" 

"Maybe." Chong gave him another of those measuring looks. "You must know what your mother was like." 

Eric shrugged. "She ran around." 

Chong snorted. "That's putting it mildly. "She went with any guy who wanted her. And there were plenty." He paused, looking at Eric's face again, then went on, his voice with a bitter edge. "I know she's your mother. I'm sorry to have to say these things. But she was a tramp. Your father could have been anyone." 

Eric looked away, determined not to show the spark of anger that had flared inside him. "I know what she was. But he must have been Asian. So he couldn't have been _anyone_." He glanced back at the other man's face, seeing a slight, ironic smile. 

"I suppose you're wondering if I'm your father." 

"Yes." 

"I was a happily married man at the time. With a three-year-old baby. Why would I fool around with a teenaged girl?" 

Eric gave a small huff of laughter. "_Why?_ Does that really need an answer?" He stared at Chong's face. "I heard there was one night in particular, when she was in your restaurant, with Russell Lee and another couple." 

The other man took a few moments, looking out over the lawn, his face grim. "I remember. It's... You may not like it." 

"I don't _like_ any of this. Just tell me." 

"It was thirty years ago, but I remember. Pam -- your mother -- came to my restaurant, for dinner. Like you said, she came with some of her friends. That kid, Russell Lee, was with them." 

"Go on." 

"She was carrying on, as usual. Drunk already. Making noise and fooling around..." 

_"Hey, Sammy!" He turned, and reluctantly went to the table. "Who are those guys over there?" she asked, her pretty face flushed, with booze, he was sure. _

"Customers." 

She glanced at them again, a group of four Japanese men in business suits. "They're cute. Where are they staying?" 

"How should I know?" he said sharply. 

"Well, where are they from?" 

"They're from Tokyo, here for a business meeting." 

"I've never had Japanese before..." She grinned up as he scowled at her. "Maybe I can get some tonight. Four courses. Mmmm." 

He knew she was deliberately trying to shock him. He turned and walked away, to take his seat at the front of the restaurant, where he liked to greet customers as they entered. He watched her and her friends as they joked and laughed, as she stared at the group of men in the corner, managing to catch their attention. One of them raised a glass to her. She waved, giggling. 

Much more and he'd have to toss her out, couldn't have her annoying the customers. But he had to admit they didn't look annoyed. They were all smiling, watching her, whispering to each other... 

"When they left, she went with them. Russell Lee went running after them. The other two kids stayed. And that's it." 

"You didn't see her again that night? How about the businessmen, or Lee?" 

"None of them." His lips lifted again. "You're a cop or something, aren't you?" 

"Or something." 

"I recognize the style. You don't live here anymore." 

"No. Silver Hills." 

"Good job? Married? Kids?" 

Surprised, Eric glanced sharply at his face before answering. "Yes. No, and no." 

Again he gave Eric a long look, an indefinable expression on his face. "I guess you've had a hard time. But you look like you turned out okay, in spite of your parents." 

"I've done all right." Eric stood up, impatient and uncomfortable again. "I'd better get going. Looks like I need to talk to Russell Lee." 

"Well..." Chong stood and held out his hand. "Good luck." He seemed to be avoiding Eric's eyes. 

"Thanks. And thanks for talking to me." A quick handshake and he was headed in the direction of his car. As he reached the street, he glanced back, seeing Chong still standing in the same place, watching him. 

* * *

"He just stood there and watched you?" 

"Yeah. Why, you think it means anything?" Eric rolled on his side and propped his head on his hand to look at Gaby's face. They were back in their room after dinner, in bed, the television on. After an evening during which they had both avoided the subject, she had asked what had happened, and he had found himself willing, even eager to talk about it, to his own surprise. 

"I don't know. Maybe he was just curious." She looked into his face. "Did you believe both of them? What they told you?" 

"No reason not to, at this point." 

"I guess." She paused, watching him. "How do you feel about it?" 

He turned his eyes away from hers. "About what?" 

"Well -- hearing all that. About how your mother acted that night." 

"Only what I expected." He turned his face away from her to look at the television. 

"It could have been one of those businessmen, couldn't it?" she asked quietly. 

"I guess." Suddenly disturbed, he sat up and stared at the screen blindly. "Grown men. Adults. What kind of an asshole sleeps with a young girl like that, and doesn't care about what happens to her?" 

"Maybe an asshole, maybe just weak. People make mistakes, both men and women." 

"Yeah, a mistake." 

"Eric..." Whatever she was going to say, she changed her mind. "Do you think you could track them down?" 

"I don't know." His voice had taken on a sharp edge. 

"Eric -- if you're going to -- to keep on with this..." She hesitated again. 

"Go on." 

"Well, you have to face it. If it's one of those men, you may never find him. How are you going to feel about that?" 

He sighed, his back still turned to her. "That's not what bothers me." 

"What, then?" 

It came bursting out, what had been in his mind since he had first heard the four Japanese businessmen mentioned. "I could be the result of a drunken gang-bang with four guys who couldn't have cared less about my mother. No affection, no feelings at all involved, not any feelings above the waist, anyway..." 

He felt the bed shift slightly as she sat up and leaned against his back, a hand sliding over his shoulder. "It shouldn't matter," she said. "You're still the same person. But I understand how you feel." 

He reached up to touch her fingers on his shoulder. "I guess I wanted it to mean something. Maybe it would make _me_ mean something, you know?" 

"I know. But you mean plenty. What's important is who cares about you now, and who you care about, not what happened in the past." She looped her arms around him and squeezed. "Whatever happened when you were conceived, it means a lot, because it made _you_." 

After a moment he turned, smiled at her, and lay back down on the bed, draping an arm over her as she settled back beside him. He moved closer and kissed her gently, fingers tracing the line of her cheek and jaw, gliding over neck and shoulder. He nuzzled her neck, and moved down to kiss soft flesh. Turning his face, he rested his head on her chest. 

"Sometimes you can be pretty nice," he murmured, eyes closing as he found a few moments of peace and comfort in the circle of her arms, the warm scent of her skin, the steady beat of her heart. 

* * *

TBC... 


	4. Answers

Eric belongs to Disney/Saban. I am using him without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Gaby and all other characters that appear in the story are mine. 

Rated PG-13 : Harsh language; strong sexual content; mature concepts. 

Reviews are appreciated, please take a moment to leave one. 

**A/N:** This story and 'Unreal Life' take place at the same time, and I am posting them at the same time. They are separate but related stories, and can be read together or separately. 

Connections

* * *

* * *

Answers

* * *

Russell Lee. Eric spotted him at once, even as he pulled over at the side of the street and parked. A Chinese man, about his height and size, in his mid-forties, watering his lawn with a garden hose. They watched each other warily as Eric opened his door and got out. After a moment to size up the house -- medium-sized, painted a quiet beige, well-kept -- he crossed the street and stepped onto the walkway leading to the front door. 

"Russell Lee?" he asked. 

"That's right. You're Eric Myers, aren't you?" Up close, Lee was a nice-looking man, still fit, only a hint of gray in his hair, his gaze steady and direct. Again Eric looked for his own likeness, wondered if he was imagining things, and again couldn't be sure. 

"Yes. Thanks for agreeing to talk to me." 

"No problem. Come on in." 

Again, a walk into someone else's home, someone else's life. This time they sat in the living room. Eric took a quick look around, seeing comfortable furniture, nice but meant to be used, not just looked at. A few toys were scattered around the floor. 

Lee saw him looking and smiled. "Our grandchildren. We babysat last night. Still haven't cleared up." He reached to pick up a picture of a pretty woman and two children from the coffee table and show it to Eric. "My wife and our kids. They're grown up now, of course. My son has kids of his own. Eight months. Twins." 

"Very nice." 

"But you want to talk about Pamela Ashford." He looked at Eric intently. "So you're her son. I can see the resemblance." 

Eric frowned, and decided to get to the subject. "You know Dennis Myers isn't my real father." 

"Of course." He raised his brows. "You should be glad. I knew Dennis, or knew of him. He was a bully. A real asshole. Sorry to say it, but it's true." 

Eric found himself smiling. "I agree. He's in jail now." 

"I'm not surprised. And..." Lee blinked and leaned forward, staring at his hands. "Dad told me Pammy -- your mother -- died recently. I'm very sorry." 

"Thanks. You probably knew her better than I did. I hadn't seen her since I was nine." 

Looking startled, Lee met his eyes again. "I knew she left you when you were a kid. Never knew what happened to you. She never came back for you? You never saw her alive again?" 

"No." 

"That's terrible." He seemed shaken. "Pammy was a wonderful girl. But she did things, especially when she was drunk… I was shocked when she abandoned you like that. Couldn't believe she could do something that cruel…" 

Eric cleared his throat. "I think -- in her mind she was trying to do the right thing. She thought she couldn't take care of me anymore. Thought I'd be better off." Anxious to change the subject, he straightened up. "I'm here because I want to know who my biological father is." 

"Yes, Dad told me." Lee smiled. "Sorry, but it's not me. In a way I wish it was. I could have taken you when she left. Would have liked to." His face became serious, even sad. "I thought I was in love with her. Really worshipped the ground that girl walked on. I cared for all of her, not just her body. Maybe that's why she never tried to sleep with me." 

"You telling me _you_ never tried?" 

A half-smile. "I was only sixteen. And most kids didn't grow up so fast back then. Believe me, I _wanted_ to. But I was inexperienced, and scared. And I wanted -- I don't know. I didn't want it to be the way it was with all the other guys she went with. As long as we were just friends, I knew it was different between us. Special." He looked directly at Eric again. "I never was much for casual sex. And she wasn't capable of anything else, at least not then." 

"I understand." And he did. It was something they had in common. He paused for a few moments. When Lee was silent, staring pensively at the picture of his family, Eric went on to his next question. "There was a night you went out to dinner with my mother and another couple. At Sammy Chong's restaurant. She left with a group of Japanese businessmen, and you went after them." 

"Yes. Later she told me that was the night she got pregnant." Lee hadn't moved, his eyes distant. "I remember it very well. We had a fight…" 

_"Pammy, wait up!" _

She stopped. So did the four men in business suits. Russell glanced at them nervously and beckoned to her. She just grinned at him and stood there, with them, hands on her hips. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I'm going to show my friends where Jack's is." 

Jack's Bar. The local hangout. A place where they weren't so particular that they wouldn't pretend to believe Pam's fake ID, and serve her drinks. Of course she liked it better if she could find someone to buy the stuff for her. And she thought she'd lucked out tonight. 

"Pammy, it's late. You should go home." 

"Why?" She grinned again, turned on her heel, and led the way, throwing a flirtatious glance back at the four men following her. "Come on, boys, it's just a couple of blocks. I'll let all of you buy me a drink…" 

He followed them on the short walk to Jack's, feeling helpless and frustrated. She was doing it again. Not just picking up men in front of him, treating him like dirt, but acting stupid. She was going to get in trouble, sooner or later. 

They all went into the bar, a noisy, smoky place, filled with people whose eyes were too bright and voices too loud. They found a table. One of the men got up and returned with a round of drinks. Time went by while Russell stayed, sat with them, not drinking, watching Pam talk and laugh, trying to think of some way to get her out of there, getting more nervous as it got close to his curfew. 

"So… where do you live?" one of the men was asking her. His hand was lifted, one finger trailing up and down her bare arm. 

"In my Mom's house. What a drag." 

"Yes, a drag. I'd like to get out of here. Go somewhere quieter." 

She smiled at him and leaned closer. "So would I. Are you guys in a hotel or something?" 

"We have a couple of rooms. Maybe you'd like to see them?" 

"Well, sure." She smirked at him. "I love hotel beds…" 

He smiled and turned to his companions. "You're all right here for a while, aren't you?" 

"Why don't you all come?" she said, glancing at Russell, laughing at his expression. "We can have a party." 

It was too much. He jumped up, knocking his chair back noisily. "You're crazy, Pammy!" he shouted. 

"Mind your own business, Russell!" 

"Do you guys know she's only seventeen? That means she's illegal here in California! How old are all of you, anyway? Thirties? Forties? It's disgusting!" 

"Shut up! You little shit!" She jumped to her feet and came after him. "Get the fuck out of here and leave me alone!" 

He retreated, trying to hold back the tears that were already stinging his eyes. At the door to the bar he turned back. The four men had gotten up. Pam was talking to them, her face upset. He saw the one who had invited her to their rooms wave at her dismissively. They all started for the door, passing him with only a hostile glance, leaving her standing there… 

"She stormed out, calling me a few more names in the process. The Japanese businessmen caught a cab. She walked away. I was going to go after her, but a cop car pulled up and she started talking to the guy. I went back in the bar and called my father to pick me up. Saw her around school, but I didn't talk to her again until I heard she was pregnant." He raised his eyes to Eric's face. "She told me it happened that night. But she wouldn't say who it was." 

"But it wasn't one of the businessmen." 

"Not unless she followed them. But I doubt it." 

Eric felt a breath of relief. There was only one more question. "Any more ideas? Guesses? Anything that could help me?" 

"I'm afraid not. Wish I could be more help." 

"You've been a big help. Thanks. I'd better get going." 

They stopped outside, in the garden. Lee picked up the hose again and smiled at Eric. "I'm glad you came," he said unexpectedly. "Good to know Pammy's son turned out so well." 

"Thanks." Eric hesitated and then said it. "Sounds to me like she didn't treat you very well. I'm surprised you still feel something for her." 

"She wasn't always like that. I don't know. Most of the time she was nice… kind… but there was something mean in her too, buried inside. It was like she couldn't help it. I like to think I saw the real Pamela Ashford…" 

Eric crossed the street and got into his car. He watched Lee again for a moment, wondering, trying to see that young boy who had truly loved his mother, trying to picture her the way she had appeared to him. But all he could see was a middle-aged Chinese man watering his lawn, his face shadowed by memories. 

* * *

She was late. He paced nervously in the mall, in front of the cafeteria where they had agreed to meet for lunch. People went by, families, talking and laughing. The lights were so bright, the background sounds of voices, movement, faint music from some of the stores so suddenly irritating. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Where the hell was she? 

A vision of Norman, holding Gaby the way Eric had seen him, his fingers digging into her arms, shoving her down to the floor, hitting her... The bruises had faded, but not that memory. He gritted his teeth. The cops wouldn't take a missing person report, not yet. They'd laugh at him. He should try calling her, before he panicked, started acting like an idiot… As he was reaching for his cell phone he saw her, rushing towards him across the tiled floor, smiling, holding a shopping bag. 

Sharp relief shot through him, and equally sharp anger. Her smile faded as she came up to him, as he glared at her, fury surging through him, then shame, then more anger… 

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" 

"I'm sorry, I was shopping, found a really great pair of jeans, but there was a line, and they just wouldn't _move_, sorry I'm late." 

"Do you have any idea how worried I was? How could you be late when you knew I'd think something was wrong?" 

"Jesus, I was only fifteen minutes late." 

"Yeah, fifteen minutes! I thought… How could you be so irresponsible?" He stopped, controlling himself with an effort, guiltily seeing the hurt on her face. "Damn it -- just don't do something like this again!" 

"All right, I won't. God. I don't know why _you're_ getting so upset. _I'm_ the one who's in danger." 

"_I'm_ the one who has to protect you! And it doesn't make it any easier when you pull something like this!" 

She stared, her eyes going wide and then narrow. "Sorry to be such a burden!" 

"Shit!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry." 

Her face was stiff and cold as she said, "No, _I'm_ sorry. Should have known you'd be worried." 

"Well -- let's just have lunch." 

They went through the cafeteria line silently, sat down, and began to eat. Eric watched her as long as he could stand it, seeing the pinched look that meant she was seriously upset, maybe holding back tears. 

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Shouldn't have lost my temper." 

"It's okay. You were worried. I understand." She gave him a forced smile. "So -- how did it go?" she asked after another brief silence. 

"Okay, I guess. Russell Lee said it's not him. Just like the rest of them." He gave her a summary of Lee's story. 

She smiled when he finished, genuinely this time. "So it wasn't one of the businessmen. Good." 

"That's how it looks. But I'm back where I started." 

"What are you going to do now?" 

He sighed. "Guess I'll go to the cops here. Lee said she was talking to someone in a patrol car the last time he saw her that night. Maybe I can find him." 

"Sounds reasonable." 

Afterwards they walked out, into the overly bright, cheerful center of the mall again. He stopped and took her hand. "I'm sorry…" he started, hesitating and raising the other hand to brush his fingers against her cheek. "I only got so mad because I was worried." 

"Forget it. It was my fault." She stepped closer to kiss the side of his jaw, then hugged him as he wrapped his arms tight around her. After a comforting moment they both stepped back. She was smiling as she picked up her shopping bag. "Well, guess I'll try the movie theatre this time," she said. Eric didn't miss the slight sigh that went with it. 

"You could come with me," he said. 

"No. I'll be fine. And I promise not to be late." 

* * *

The building across the street looked familiar, even though it probably had changed since he had been here, twenty years ago. He remembered it vividly, being brought to this place, nine years old, a kid abandoned by his mother in a bus station. They had kept him in the squad room, the officer who had talked him into coming out of the bus station bathroom doing his best to keep him comfortable and entertained. But nothing had helped. 

Then the social workers had come, and he had been taken away, to start a new life in orphanages and foster homes. His mind still shied away from those years. Not that he had been abused or neglected, not really. Not physically. But he had known he didn't belong. That no one wanted him, no one liked him, mostly his fault, he had taken out his problems on everyone around him... 

It was no time to be sinking into the past again, no time to be letting himself be distracted. Taking a breath and squaring his shoulders, Eric crossed the street. 

* * *

"Eric Myers," he repeated to the desk sergeant. "I'm a Silver Guardian, from Silver Hills." He held out his ID for inspection. 

"What's your business here?" 

"Personal. Sort of a professional favor. I just want to ask a few questions." 

"Anyone in particular you want to talk to?" 

"Someone who was around thirty years ago, if possible." 

"I'll see if I can find someone," the desk sergeant said dubiously. 

"Thanks." 

He sat, and waited. The room was quiet, in a small town like this there wasn't the same constant traffic back and forth that he was used to in Silver Hills. No suspects being hauled in and out, or waiting, handcuffed, on benches; only a few officers walking through, nodding to each other, looking at him curiously. 

"Eric Myers?" 

He looked up to see a man in his fifties, dark hair starting to show gray, alert eyes examining him carefully, in plain clothes but with that indefinable air that told Eric he was a cop. 

"Yes." He stood. 

"Detective Parkins. Glad to meet you." After a quick handshake, the older man led him into the back rooms of the stationhouse. Soon they were sitting at a desk in a quiet corner, out of earshot of the other detectives at other desks scattered around the room. Eric fidgeted under another close look. 

"So, how can I help you?" Parkins said. 

"I'm looking for a particular police officer. Someone who was in a patrol car thirty years ago, downtown near Jack's Bar, about ten PM. Would have been May, 1973." 

"And?" 

"My mother was seventeen then, in high school. He stopped her that night when she left Jack's. Was seen talking to her. I know it's a long shot, but..." 

"Your mother. Pamela Ashford. Pamela Myers after she got married." 

Eric blinked. "You knew her?" 

Parkins stared at him steadily. "Yes. I knew you, too." 

"You did?" 

"Of course, you were just a kid, then." A sigh, and Parkins leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Do you remember, after your mother left you -- abandoned you -- in the bus station, a couple of cops came to get you? One of them talked to you in the men's room, got you to come out of the stall?" 

Eric's throat constricted, but he got the answer out. "I remember." 

"I wasn't a detective yet then. Still a uniformed officer." 

"That was you?" 

"Yes." He smiled. "I recognized your name, when the desk sergeant called around for someone to talk to you. Never forgot you. Back then I spent some time myself, trying to find your mother. Kept track of you for a while, but then… Always wondered what happened to you." 

"I did okay, I guess." Eric looked up at him, feeling emotions he was reluctant to identify. Gratitude, certainly, but also an echo of the fear and grief he had felt that day. "I'm glad I have the chance to thank you," he said awkwardly. "Don't think I ever said it at the time." 

Parkins smiled, and then sat back. When he spoke again his voice was brisk and steady. "It's a coincidence, but I'm probably the one you're looking for. I remember your mother, too, from before you were born. Remember stopping her on the street one night. She had just run out of Jack's." He stopped, brows contracting. "What's this about, anyway?" 

"I think that night was when -- well, I think whoever she was with that night is my father. My biological father." 

"I see." Again a careful scrutiny. "He'd have to be Asian… What are you planning to do if you find him?" 

"Talk to him. Find out what he's like." 

"Why? And why now?" 

Eric shifted in his chair. "Don't I have the right to know?" 

"Maybe. But this is my town, and I don't want you starting trouble." 

Eric felt annoyance, but also respect. It occurred to him that he'd feel exactly the same way. "I'm not out to make trouble." He sighed. "My mother died a few months ago. I hadn't seen her since -- since the bus station. I guess that's why I want to know. Want to find out about the other side of my family. My heritage, if you want to call it that." 

Sharp eyes pierced through him again, and apparently liked what they found. "Okay. Yeah, I talked to your mother that night…" 

_Pam Ashford. He recognized her instantly, after having run into her several times at bars she was too young to have any business being in. She was mildly drunk, that was obvious. And in a strange mood. She grinned at him, giving him what she probably thought was a seductive look. "Can't a girl have a good time around here?" she complained. "Maybe you'd be interested…" _

"Sorry. But I'd be happy to take you home." 

"Home? No thanks." 

"Look, it's late. A girl like you shouldn't be wandering around alone." 

"A girl like me? And what kind of a girl am I?" She laughed, straightened, and threw her shoulders back, turning slightly to show off her curves under a tight, low-cut sweater. 

"The kind who should be home in bed." 

He regretted his choice of words as she grinned at him and said, "I wouldn't mind being in bed… but not home." 

"Do I have to call your parents to come get you?" he asked, mostly out of annoyance. 

"Oh, all right." She pouted and looked around. "My friends are back at Sammy Chong's. I'll catch a ride with them." With a mocking smile, she wiggled her fingers at him and started off, more or less steadily… 

"She went back to Chong's restaurant?" Eric demanded. 

"That's right. I watched her go in. Noticed there was only one car in the parking lot. Sammy's car. Figured if her friends were gone, he'd make sure she got home. Then I went back on patrol." His eyes fell. "Twenty minutes later, I drove back that way. Saw them getting into Sammy's car. With the mood she was in -- after I heard she was pregnant -- and after you were born -- I wondered if anything happened between them." 

Eric stared at him, his mind seeing Sammy Chong's face, hearing him saying he hadn't seen Pamela again that night. After a moment he got up. "Thanks," he said. "You may have told me what I need to know." 

* * *

TBC... 


	5. Epilogue

Eric belongs to Disney/Saban. I am using him without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Gaby and all other characters that appear in the story are mine. 

Rated PG-13 : Harsh language; strong sexual content; mature concepts. 

Reviews are appreciated, please take a moment to leave one. 

**A/N:** This story and 'Unreal Life' take place at the same time, and I am posting them at the same time. They are separate but related stories, and can be read together or separately. 

Last chapter. I have a lot of thanks: Cecilia for excellent beta reading; Jenny for beta'ing, answering questions, and keeping me from saying anything stupid about my Asian characters; as always everyone who read and especially everyone who reviewed, it means a tremendous amount to me. 

Eric will now rejoin 'Unreal Life', currently in progress. 

Connections

* * *

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

This time Sam Chong answered the door himself. They locked eyes through the screen door. Chong's face tensed, he nodded quickly, turned, and said, "I have to take care of something," to an unseen someone. 

Then they were back in the same square of trees and grass, surrounded by small apartment buildings, sitting on the same bench. Eric watched the older man, feeling that subtle sense of recognition again, this time knowing it wasn't his imagination. Chong clenched his hands together and stared down at them silently. 

"I want the truth this time. I know my mother didn't sleep with any of those businessmen, or with Russell Lee. I know she came back to your restaurant that night. You were seen getting into your car with her. What happened?" 

An expression of pain ran over Chong's face. He didn't look up. "Do I have to spell it out?" he asked. "What do you think happened?" 

"I want to hear it from you." 

He glanced up quickly and then back down. "All right. You want the truth…" 

_He was closing up. Getting the lights turned out, taking a last look around the dining room. Then she came in, pushing through the door, looking around, stopping when she saw him. _

"Where's Eddie and Cath?" she said, her voice complaining. 

"Your friends left half an hour ago. I'm closing up." 

She didn't take the hint, only smiled and took a few steps closer. She smiled again, lips red in the dim light, eyes bright. "Can you give me a lift?" she asked. 

"I… why don't you call your parents?" 

"They'll get mad, if they have to come get me." She pouted, moving closer still. "You don't want that to happen, do you?" 

"Well…" 

"You know, I always liked older men." She was so close, her breasts brushing against him. He took a step back. She chuckled softly, eyes gleaming. 

"You want that ride or not?" he asked, mostly to distract her. And himself. 

"Sure." She followed him, standing too close as he finished up, watching, a soft little half-smile on her lips. He was annoyed, but... she was so pretty, and the way she looked at him sideways, excitement and promise in her eyes... 

Then they were outside, in the parking lot, getting into his car. He glanced at her as he closed his door. She was laughing at him softly. He put the key in the ignition, was about to turn it, but she was sliding closer, touching his shoulder, pressing against him. 

"Stop that," he said, not sounding convincing even to himself. And she ignored his words, her hand circling over his chest, her lips brushing his neck, her breath warm on his face. He didn't respond, but he didn't push her away, either. And her hands moved on, skillfully, until he turned to face her… 

"It was just once. After, I asked if she was using anything. She just laughed and said not to worry about it." 

"_After_ is a little late to ask, isn't it?" 

"I don't know what was wrong with me. I just didn't think." 

"Not with your brain, anyway." Eric's voice was bitter. 

"When she got pregnant, I convinced myself it wasn't me. Even after you were born, and everyone knew your father had to be Asian. I told myself it wasn't me. That it could have been a lot of guys." He raised a tortured face. "I had a wife and a baby. It would have ruined everything. I convinced myself I had nothing to do with it. With you. Even when your mother abandoned you, I told myself it was none of my business." 

"None of your business? How could you not take responsibility?" Eric felt his fists clench. He had tried to avoid getting angry, but it came anyway. 

But Chong only slumped, defeated. "I'm sorry. I know it was wrong. I just wouldn't let myself believe it." 

"But you believe it now, don't you?" 

Chong sighed. He reached into his pocket and took out a wallet. Opening it, he pulled out a photograph and handed it over. Eric stared at it, that strange sense of recognition returning to him. The face in the picture looked pure Asian, but the eyes, the nose, the shape of the cheekbones... there was a definite resemblance to himself, unmistakable. 

"My son," Chong said. 

"So when I came here yesterday, you knew. And you lied to me." 

"I still didn't want to face it... Yes, I lied. Why dig up the past, after thirty years?" He looked Eric directly in the face for the first time. "What are you going to do now?" 

"Nothing. All I ever wanted was to know the truth." He hesitated. Now that the confrontation was over, the initial anger he had felt was fading. He wasn't sure what was taking its place. Curiosity, mostly. "I guess I should be angry. I have a right to be. But I just want to talk to you." 

"Talk? That's all?" 

"Yeah, that's all. Maybe it's hard for you to understand, but I just want to know something about you. Know where I came from. What my other half is." 

"I guess I can understand that." Chong looked at him again, his eyes haunted. "I'm probably not the kind of guy you were hoping for as a father." 

"I -- I don't know what I was hoping for. There were worse possibilities." 

Eric's father smiled, a small, almost hopeful smile. "You want to know about me? My background?" 

Eric nodded, returning that tentative smile. "Yeah." 

"Well -- I'm divorced. Two kids, neither of them married. You saw my daughter, Jenny. Your sister. My son is younger, he just got out of graduate school. I don't have any brothers or sisters. My parents are both gone now. Let's see -- I was born in mainland China. Came here as a baby. I'm a mix myself, my father was Cantonese, my mother was Japanese…" 

* * *

"All mixed up." Gaby grinned. 

"Huh?" 

"That's what they call it. You told me your mother was half English and half Spanish, and now you know what your father's side is. You're a little of this, a little of that, mixed together. All mixed up." 

He snorted. "How appropriate." 

"I think so too." 

They were walking slowly along the beach again, the sun low over the waters in the west. A brisk breeze blew Gaby's hair into her face. Clouds lined the sky, promising a beautiful sunset but threatening a storm. 

"He asked me about myself, too. Wanted to know if I'm happy." 

"Interesting question. What did you say?" 

"That I don't know. I'm... content, I guess." 

"Not a bad thing to be." She smiled and went on. "So, now you know. How do you feel about it?" 

Eric shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Glad I know for sure." He smiled. "Walter Lee said the truth can be hard to bear. But knowing is better than wondering for the rest of my life. Sam Chong may not be the ideal guy I would have picked for a father, but things could have been a lot worse." 

"Yeah, they could have. But I guess you would have preferred someone like Russell Lee." 

"Well, yeah. If it had been him, he would have taken me when Mom left." 

Her face was solemn, staring down at the sand, as he glanced at her. "You would have had a very different life, if it had been him. You'd be a different person." 

"I guess so." 

She took his arm, pressing it tight against her body. "Maybe it's selfish, but I'm glad you're the way you are. What did you think of Chong? Sam? Your father. Whatever." 

"I just told you." 

"I mean -- once he told you the truth, and you talked for a while, did you like him? Do you want to see him again?" 

"I'm not sure. I guess he was okay. Not a really nice guy. But then, neither am I." 

"I don't know about that. And at least he admitted it in the end. He was willing to talk to you. Sounds like he wanted to -- to make up for everything. Make friends." 

"I think he was just relieved I didn't want anything from him." 

She chuckled softly. "What about your brother and sister?" 

"I said I wouldn't tell them. He doesn't want them to know their old man screwed around." 

"Hmm. Considering he's divorced, I suspect they already know. Your mother probably wasn't the only one." 

"Maybe." They continued for a few more steps in silence. "Strange to think I have a brother and sister. From nothing to a whole family, in three days." He felt her hand loosen on his arm, saw her frown before she turned her face away, and realized what he had said. "I didn't mean that you're nothing…" he started. 

"Oh, I know." She stopped, pulling him to a halt, facing her. "You already had a family. You never seemed to really believe that." 

"You mean Wes and Alan. And Jen, now, I guess. But I'll never really be a part of that family." 

"Pretty close. And you've got me. I know I'm not _much_, but…" 

A quick glance showed her laughing at him in the evening light. "Not much… But you'll do in a pinch…" He reached for her. 

She skipped backwards, giggling as he advanced, then ran away from him towards the motel. He caught her in a few strides, stepping into her path and grabbing her up, stopping her laughter with a kiss that quickly became demanding, his tongue exploring her mouth as she melted into his embrace. 

When the kiss ended he pressed his cheek against hers, raising a hand to smooth her hair back. "Gaby…" he murmured in her ear. "You've been so much help with this…" 

"How?" She moved her head back to look at his face. 

"By listening. Understanding. Putting up with my moods. I really…" 

He hesitated, unsure of what he was trying to say. And then the moment was lost, as his cell phone rang. With a sigh, he let her go and pulled it out of his jacket pocket. He answered, and listened, feeling his happy mood fade as the voice on the other end spoke. Gaby was watching his face in concern when he hung up. 

"What happened?" 

"I have to go back. Wes and Jen have disappeared." 

"Oh. Oh, my God. It must be Norman." 

"Yeah." He paused. "I want you to check out tomorrow morning. Use my car, head to another town. Keep moving, don't stay in the same place more than a couple of nights. I'd like you to go tonight, but it's late. And if Norman's busy with Wes and Jen, you should be safe for a while." 

"Eric, I want to go home. With you." 

"No." He smiled and lightly touched her face. "For my sake, and Wes and Jen's, as well as yours. I can't fight if I'm worried about you." 

Her face fell. "All right. Are you going right away?" 

"As soon as I get you back to the room." 

"Okay." She started towards the motel again. 

"Wait." When she turned to him, Eric raised his hands to her face, and kissed her very gently, just one last moment in the soft light, the clouds arching over them, her hair tickling as the breeze carried it across his face, the smell of the ocean, the sound of waves breaking on the beach. Then he took her hand as they started to walk. 

* * *

* End *


End file.
